Dreams aren't made
by Timeywimey221b
Summary: Everything takes place after Vitaly gets into rehab for the first time. Please leave a review. I'm still considering whether I should continue with this fic.
1. Prologue

Grace sat in the small bed, the covers undone, and she beared an unruly appearance. Her grey eyes narrowed as a couple of t-shirts landed inside a small suitcase, her brows furrowed just as she pursed her lips.  
"Do you have to go?"  
Grace couldn't hold herself any longer, her grey eyes widened, watching Vitaly pleadingly.  
It was Vitaly's turn to frown, he avoided her eyes, while he took in a breath.  
"He is my brother."  
He drawled, his brown hair covered his eyes. Grace's jaw dropped, she watched Vitaly incredulously, shaking her head Grace crossed her arms.  
"That's different." Grace snaped.  
Vitaly, exasperated, placed a hand on his hip as he looked at the fan on the ceiling.  
"Different how Grace? He asked it as a favor. Besides it's the last deal, it's not as if I'm going to do it again like all those years back." He looked down at Grace, who's fists were clenched on the bedcovers. He sighed, walking towards the edge of the bed, he knelt before her. Taking her hands in his, Vitaly glanced at the interlaced fingers as he spoke again, this time in dulcet tones.  
"Look around you Gracie, is this the place you want to live?" smiling softly he shifted on his feet. "Yuri said that when the deal is done I could get my own restaurant going, we could live in better conditions."  
Grace chuckled humorlessly, she squeezed his hand in return.  
"There's nothing wrong with the way we live. It's better than what your brother has right now, have you seen Ava lately? She is miserable."  
Crossed, Vitaly stepped away from Grace, letting her hands go as he did.  
He began to pace around, lightning a cigarette. Grace watched helplessly, she knew he was torn between his fears and his dreams. She was glad Vitaly had told her the whole truth, instead of a lie. After all, she was the only one who knew about the arms dealing—besides the police obviously.  
"I'll be back in a couple of days or so." Vitaly announced weakly, huffing the remnants of the smoke.  
Grace felt her stomach dropped, she didn't feel alright with his decision.  
That night she only felt a kiss on her forehead, drowsily she heard the front door clicking shut.


	2. Chapter 1

_Okay, so I **actually** planned on leaving this fic_ to wither and die. But surprisingly, people are reading this! Yes, I see you lurking.  
I would appreciate any feedback of any sort...Anyway, enjoy!

 **This chapter takes place some time before the Prologue** **.**

* * *

1.

"Grace, look." Maria's brown eyes flickered towards Grace's face, signaling with her chin behind the other nurse's shoulder.  
Grace— with her dark raven hair pulled on top of her head in a tight bun—her striking grey eyes, followed Maria's direction, as she craned her neck to take a look.  
Grace watched the facility's door opening  
as the guard entered. He escorted a man with a firm grip on his arm, who didn't struggle to get free of his hold. It seemed as if he had resigned to his current twist of fate, and to whatever was to come out of it.  
"Here comes another one," Maria popped her gum, the disapproval wasn't missed from her attitude.  
Maria's attention didn't linger on the subject, instead, she turned her gaze back to the magazine dangling on her lap.  
Grace threw her a sideways glance, shaking her head. She pulled out a form for the guy to fill, that is, if he wasn't too stoned to do it.  
The two men stood before Grace, she didn't look up as the scratches from her pen scribbling away filled the expectant silence.  
"And this would be?" Grace finally inquired, her focus still on the paper.  
"Er...Vitaly Orlov. His brother, Yuri Orlov, called in a couple of hours ago."  
Grace tilted her head, her eyes making contact with Vitaly's, she looked away quickly.  
"Oh, right." Grace said, not knowing what to say.  
Grace spared him another brief glance, before scribbling his name down and the time of his arrival. Grace's grey eyes darted back to Christian.  
"Take him with his belongings to the room 604. Once he's settled I'll take him from there to ." Grace instructed handing Christian the key, and a fancy kit they handed to everyone who stayed in the facility.  
Christian muttered a somewhat angry 'this way' to Vitaly, but he seemed glued to the desk, looking forlorn. Grace hesitated, exchanging glances with Christian and Maria. All wondering if he was about to trash the place in a raging, junky, fit.  
"Mr. Orlov?" Grace asked tentatively.  
Vitaly looked up, flummoxed and disoriented.  
Grace smiled, ignoring the annoyed sighing coming from behind her back.  
Maria, who thought that Grace was being too kind with the patients always told her:  
'They are here Gracie because they are a burden to their families, and to the civilization' . That's what Maria repeated as she prepped her morning decaf.  
He waited, his brows furrowing.  
"Your doctor will be appointed to you in the next hour." I handed him a bottle of water.  
The frown faded, he eyed the bottle of water amused. His blue eyes settled on Grace's face, the dark circles encompassed his weary appearance.  
"Thanks." He mumbled.  
Vitaly looked at Christian, his glance turned helpless as he let Christian drag him to his dorm room.  
"Poor guy." Grace muttered under her breath. Her earrings moving along her shaking head.  
Maria and Grace, both nurses immersed in a peaceful silence, each one busy with their own tasks at hand.  
"Holy crap!" Maria squealed, Grace started. With a hand on her chest, she turned to the loud Italian woman, who seemed to be about to burst with some novelty.  
"Now what?"  
"The guy? Orlov?" Maria's brown eyes were about to bulge out of her sockets in excitement.  
"Yeah? What about him?"  
"His brother is that rich guy who married the model Ava?" Maria paused. Grace's face registered no acknowledgment to this piece of information. Maria clicked her tongue, turned around and muttered in Italian angrily.

*.*.*

"If you follow me please," Grace instructed. She stood before Vitaly. After checking up on other two dazed patients, she thought it was time to check up on him. She wasn't surprised that half of the nurses in the place already knew of him, and were practically swooning for him.  
Vitaly was swamped in in sweat. His blue eyes had the all too familiar glassy look. He didn't look much worse from the ones who entered the rehab center every week, but still he was in a bad state.  
Vitaly shrugged, seeming uncomfortable even in his own skin, his eyes traveled back and forth like an anxious doe, as they strode through the hallways of the mansion.  
Grace closed her hand on his upper arm, he looked down at her small hand. Licking the sweat off of his upper lip.  
She talked all the way to the Doctor's office. Going about the way the center managed itself, about the grounds, and that they were prestigiously known by their discretion. Since plenty celebrities, politicians and so entered the facility with more frequency than not.  
Vitaly didn't seem to be interested in the small talk, he drowned the nurse's voice with his own thoughts, a jungle of memories that hunted him.  
"...There is the kitchen. Most of our staff keep the fridges stuffed with food. But the cutlery and such are hidden in cabinets and under lock for obvious reasons." Grace rolled her eyes, she took Vitaly through the last ward, one she hated to go through, and thankfully one she wasn't in charge of. It was the ward were the biggest creeps were kept.  
Grace explained this with an nervous chuckle, which catch Vitaly's divided attention. He watched the nurse's expression, from her pursed lips to the way her hands clenched the papers in her hands.  
"You okay?" He mumbled, startling Grace.  
"Yes, of course."  
Grace's smile was forced, and the crease of her eyebrows didn't fade with it. Vitaly saw through the lie but choose to made no comment. It wasn't his business.  
Since most of the patients were on the grounds, that wing was empty. They went through it, and Grace kept talking about things like a support group while she guided him through their final destination. Her voice still held that sharp edge.  
He remained silent all along. They stopped in front of a wooden door, Grace's knuckles knocked on the door softly.  
Grace kept her eyes fixed on the door. She didn't miss Vitaly's eyes fixed on her either. She shifted slightly, she looked back at him, trying to ease the awkwardness Grace smiled pleasantly at him. He reiterated with a small smirk, though it didn't travel to his eyes.  
 _"Boh ty prekrasna"_ Vitaly muttered.  
"Pardon?"  
"You are beautiful." Vitaly answered softly, his eyes watched her closely, searching for a reaction.  
Grace opened her moth and clicked it shut, she turned her eyes away from him, seemingly uncomfortable and flushed.  
The door flung open, startling both, a patient came out of the room in a drowsy state. Some of the guys on watch had to drag the skinny redhead.  
Vitaly and Grace jumped out of the way.  
"Yes?" Dr. Warren asked looking back and forth between them. A bit distressed.  
"Vitaly Orlov, sir. He'll be staying for a while." Grace explained, amazed that she didn't stutter.  
That's when she turned to Vitaly with a sympathetic glance and pushed him ahead, ignoring the giddiness settling in her belly.  
"I'll come back for you when the session is done," Grace said before Dr Warren closed the door on her face.

*.*.*

Walking back to her post at the entrance, Grace couldn't help but wonder what was that patient's problem. It was obvious he needed rehab for drug—and god knew what else—abuse, but he seemed troubled beyond that.  
"Pretty boy's okay?" Maria asked through her chews.  
Her voice pulled her back from her thoughts into reality.  
Grace blushed, immediately hiding behind paperwork, which ironically it was Vitaly Orlov's. To Grace's surprise his brother had invested a crazy amount for Vitaly to have every single commodity, the hospital could give him.  
"He is not fine, if that's what you're asking"  
"I meant if he was settled, but whatever suits you." Maria teased, looking past her magazine knowingly.


	3. Chapter 2

**_Hello!_**

 ** _I'm so sorry for the delay, but life's been hectic and work's been crazy. It took quite some time to write this one since I wasn't entirely pleased with it. But, I plan on finishing this story until I deem otherwise. Thank you so much to those of you out there reading, following and reviewing._** ** _I really appreciate it! Anyway enjoy and let me know what you think._**

* * *

The sun blazed the gardens of St. Joseph's rehab center. The heat made it too difficult for the residents to go outside given the cool nature of the mansion.

Under the shade of a thick Maple tree, Vitaly smoked the last cigarette from a package Yuri had sent over through mail. His thoughts elsewhere, he watched the burning tobacco, engrossed in his own mind as he huffed the smoke out from his nostrils.

Vitaly's sick complexion deteriorated, as his time in there passed. The first week in withdrawal was hell. The doctors gave him pain killers to help, they diminished the pain. But they didn't qualm the demons in his head.

Throwing the tail of the cigarette with contempt, a deep frown settled in his brow.  
He felt exhausted, and it wasn't the kind of exhaustion that you just slept away. It weighed on him, and being clean wasn't particularly nice. Because then he remembered.  
Vitaly's head whipped upwards. Voices coming from the front lawn approached towards his hideout. With clumsy movements, Vitaly hid his cigarette box inside the pocket of his trousers. Sniffing himself, he tried to catch any signs that he had been smoking. He dusted off himself, closing his eyes briefly, he took in a breath.  
"I am sure he's around here, Mr and Mrs Orlov."  
Vitaly perked up at the sound of that voice. He had tried to find out that nurse's name, but nobody seemed to care to tell him. And he couldn't find the courage or energy to ask her. He sighed, turning away from his hiding spot.  
Vitaly froze at the sight of his mother Irina, walking along with his father Anatoly.  
His mother smiled politely at the nurse, who was explaining something to them. Irina took her eyes off of her, Irina's attention wandered away from the nurse to the place Vitaly stood.  
Joy poured out of her eyes at the sight of her youngest child. Vitaly noticed how his mom's eyes pooled with tears.  
Vitaly never felt disappointed with himself even more than he did then.

* * *

Grace had noticed Vitaly's escapades to the gardens at the end of the property. It unnerved her how much his presence was recognized amongst the nurses and the patients. The other night, a girl who had appeared on a tv show, talked on and off about his dreamy blue eyes, saying the Soviet guy was into her. Grace couldn't help but laugh.  
The doors of the facility opened. An elder couple entered, muttering between them as a orderly ushered them inside. A man in a pristine suit followed close behind.  
"We've come to see Vitaly Orlov." the man announced, fixing his cufflinks.  
The overconfidence didn't fase Maria— who had the visitors list underneath her elbows. She glanced at Grace, both exchanged annoyed looks. Maria shook her head.  
"Visiting it's only on weekends. I'm sorry." she said.  
Maria had no idea what she had done. Grace watched as the entire family broke in an argument.  
The man, who later identified as Yuri Orliv, tried to soothe the couple, who were going into a fit of hysterics. It didn't help that they were all sputtering in another language.  
Yuri annoyed, turned from the couple, to Maria. Teeth clenched as he squeezed the bridge of his nose.  
"I don't believe you understand. This is an emergency. Unless you want to spend the next year job hunting, I suggest you get the permission for us to see my brother. Now." the man growled through clenched teeth.  
Grace stepped forward, as Maria unnerved, made the call.  
"It'll be just a few minutes until the permit goes through. In the mean time, I'll take you to him."  
Heads turned, noticing the dark raven haired woman, stepping outside the counter.  
Grace took Vitaly's family to the gardens. She didn't have to check in his room to know he wouldn't be there.  
"Our son Yuri tells us you serve lunch here." The man said. His eyes fixated on Grace, daring her to contradict him.  
Grace darted her eyes to Yuri, who seemed exasperated.  
"We could arrange something for you." Grace answered composed.  
Satisfied, Mr Orlov nodded.  
"Just so you know, we are Jewish. We cannot eat most of the food you people eat."  
Grace could've sworn she heard a collective groan coming from the other two.  
 _"O bozhe."_ Vitaly's mother muttered under her breath.

*.*.*

The family reunion was an endearing moment to witness. According to Irina she hadn't seen her son for months since he took that business trip with Yuri. His parents only saw him that week when he got back. Only to witness the wreck he turned into.  
Yuri stayed long enough to just check out on his brother, until his mobile phone began to ring. The family's mood deteriorated when this happened. Yuri Orlov grinned, apologizing profusely claiming that work was calling.  
"It's okay brother." Yuri mumbled. His blue eyes charged with meaning.  
Yuri left without regret. Stumbling with Grace, who was about to ask to enter so they could enjoy lunch.  
Frowning, Grace heard the grumblings of Vitaly's father. And the crying mother.  
Vitaly's eyes found her standing there her features puzzled.

*.*.*

Grace and Maria looked away from the intimate set of goodbyes. Irina held his son to her. Kissing Vitaly's cheek with tears in her eyes, Anatoly tried to steer the woman away.  
The orderlies opened the doors for Vitaly's parents. Irina watched as his son walked away from the door.  
Grace and Maria looked away just as Vitaly's eyes focused on them.  
"Thank you." Vitaly calls Grace's and Maria's attention.  
"Is she going to be okay?" Grace asked tentatively.  
Maria, rolling her eyes, stepped underneath the counter pretending to write something on the archives.  
Vitaly shrugged, stepping towards the counter. The orderlies followed close.  
"She told me she's praying for you." Grace added, shuffling some papers for the tenth time.  
Vitaly looked down, the cheeky smile disappearing from his lips.  
"She is?"  
"Is it working?" Grace asked.  
Vitaly's cheeky smile returned.  
"I hope so. That model from the east wing looks interested."  
Grace heard Maria gasping as Grace's face dropped.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey!**

 **I know it's been a long while. I haven't forgotten about this small story, my mind was buzzing with ideas and such. But writer's block was a bitch!**

 **Anyway, without further ado here's the next chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

A loud bang woke up Grace from her slumber. Tangled in a heap of sheets, she turned to look at her clock on her bedside table. It was well past midnight.  
Grace wasn't certain that a banging outside her door was what woke her up, until she heard it again.  
The padding of her feet against her wooden floor broke the silence. Wary, she approached the door. Grace looked through the peephole. Through it, she saw the empty hallway outside her door. From the flickering lamp of the emergency exit, to the the closed elevator doors.  
Another knock shook the door. Yelping, she jumped away from it.  
Grace took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was being ridiculous. Unlocking the doorjamb, Grace flung it open.  
She froze.  
When was the last time she had seen him? A couple of months ago, just before he left St Joseph's.  
"Vitaly Orlov?" Grace whispered.  
Vitaly's blue orbes settled on Grace's face. It was the expression of a broken man.  
"How did you get here?" Grace looked at both ends of the building halls. Lifting Vitaly off the floor.  
"I followed you home." he drawled.  
Grace eyes went big as saucers, a chill running down her spine.  
"You what?" Grace snapped just as she let go of his grasp.  
Vitaly nodded, sweat rippling down his forehead. Stumbling his feet, Vitaly looked at Grace.  
"You were rushing up the steps of the subway. It's a dangerous place to wander at night. So I worried, and I followed you."  
"You worried," Grace repeated. "Where were you going when you saw me anyway?"  
"Little Odessa. My parents own the Crimean restaurant. I make an excellent Borscht, by the way." Vitaly grinned, but it soon faded when Grace didn't reciprocate. Realizing they were discussing on Grace's threshold, he rubbed his arms. "It's freezing out here. Can we get inside?"  
Grace sighed. He was drunk and maybe even on something, she couldn't just kick him to the curb and send him on his way, could she?  
Stepping aside Grace helped a stumbling Vitaly inside her apartment. With some effort she set his heavy body unto the red, worn-out, loveseat. Vitaly closed his eyes. Resting his head back, he willed the estupor to fade away. Grace fidget, not knowing where to go from there.  
Should she call a doctor? Wasn't it creepy he followed her home? Should she bring a glass of water?  
Choosing the latter, Grace said nothing as she awkwardly padded back to her small kitchenette.

*.*.*

Vitaly heard the distant clink of the dishes, and Grace muttering to herself. He could picture her. He pictured her biting the insides of her cheek. Her dark hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders. And he could see those alluring gray eyes. Eyes that could read him better than anything else.  
He couldn't keep his eyes open, but between heavy lids, he distinguished her small figure, moving back and forth in the small space.  
What did he even intent with stalking her?

*.*.*

3 months earlier.

"So you are going away, huh?"  
Grace felt stupid for stating the obvious, she looked the other way as she couldn't bear the sight of him. Sick.  
It's not as if she could've done something, when he didn't want to get better— Maybe her dad was right, she loved lost causes.  
Vitaly said nothing. It was the first day of many that she had seen him lucid.  
"Yeah, guess I'm better now." he smiled ruefully.  
"Are you though?" Grace squeezed his shoulder, before turning around on her heels. She marched up the steps to the entrance, turning just in time to see the black sleek car driving away.  
"He'll be back," Grace looked at Calvin— a big, blond orderly— behind her shoulder.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Guys like him, they are always back." shaking his head as he went back inside.

*.*.*

Vitaly sat on a stool while Grace poured him a cup of black coffee.  
He was eager to get away. He didn't know why he followed Grace. He was on his way to a brothel—the next thing that could help him have a sort of release— as he caught sight of Grace on his way there. The sight of her shocked him. Without thinking, he followed her.  
Giving the look she was casting upon him, she didn't want him there.  
"You look like shit." Grace said nonchalantly. His eyes dodged hers.  
"I've been better."  
"What does your family think about all the shenanigans you pull nowadays?"  
Grace couldn't help the accusatory tone her voice held.  
"They think I'm a fucked up. While they fawn at everything Yuri does. Cause Yuri does no wrong."  
Vitaly let out a bitter chuckle.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Nothing." Vitaly said stirring his mug.  
Sighing, Grace sat up.  
Knowing better than to intrude, Grace just watched him. He looked beyond repair. A strand of his long hair fell on his face, he pushed it back with a flip.  
"Can I ask you something?" Grace asked. Looking back at Grace, Vitaly waited. She took in a breath.  
"Why are you like this?"  
Vitaly stared, reflecting on her unusual question.  
"Because I am."  
Vitaly's eyes traveled the length of her face, as his eyes lowered, he noticed the scar in her wrist.  
Grace followed his sightline. Realizing what he stared at, her stomach dropped. Clearing her throat, Grace pulled her sleeve down.  
"I guess you could stay here for tonight. Roaming the streets at night isn't a good idea."  
If Vitaly noticed the slight stutter, he hid it well.  
"Thank you." Vitaly said, with his eyes perusing the small apartment, he smirked. "I suppose that's the bedroom?"  
Feeling her cheeks burning, Grace nodded at the small loveseat.  
"More like you will take the couch." Grace pat his cheek as she pushed past him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Happy New Year!**

 **I hope you readers had amazing holidays. Thank you to all of you for keeping up with this small piece of fiction and to those kind enough to review, follow, favorite this story. Thank you _SakuraHiime_ for all your support. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He lay asleep beside her on the couch. The blankets and pillows bunched up around his body, his breathing slow and even. Grace stared at him, he slept soundlessly next to her.  
He had pulled her to the couch with him as he sat, telling her to stay with him for a while.  
She obliged. She was growing uncomfortable with the familiarity he treated her. Vitaly was a stranger, the shadiest person she had ever encountered. And an addict.  
Grace took a deep breath in. She gathered strength to pull herself up from the love seat, pulling Vitaly's dangling legs up on the sofa, covering her absence.  
Tomorrow she would take him to his family.

*.*.*

Darkness engulfed him, he closed and opened his eyes several times, trying to make it stop.  
Gunshots. Red pooling out of the children's heads. Blank looks.  
Vitaly threw the covers away, he searched for his jacket, and patted its pockets. Vitaly found what he needed, and unwrapped it. The white substance fell on the coffee table. Without preamble Vitaly bent over to the table, and inhaled. It hit him like a sharp blow in the head, he blinked rapidly. He felt it as it hit his nerves, his brain, his mind put down at ease once more. And his regret shoved to the back of his mind, he relaxed.

*.*.*

Grace sensed as if she had just closed her eyes. Startled, she rose from her bed. The lights were on. Her radio blasted the national anthem. The hell was going on?  
She cross her room's door toward the living room, to find Vitaly was nowhere to be seen. The only signs that he had been there were the unkempt sheets and a half chucked bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.  
Something smashed inside her kitchenette, startled by the sound, she followed the string of curses. Her stomach dropped.  
The fridge contents lay scattered about, the stove was on, and it smelled like something was burning. Vitaly stood amidst the mess, trying to pick the glass shards from the floor with clumsy movements with a bleeding hand, he cursed as his fingers got small cuts.  
At the sight of movement, Vitaly looked up. Grace stomach churned. His big blue eyes' brim had reddened, and the look in his eyes stood out with a glassy, blank stare. It was her turn to curse.  
"What happened?" Grace asked trying to keep the histerics out of her voice. She didn't succeed.  
"I was hungry." Vitaly looked at the boiling contents of the casserole, oblivious to the overcooked stench.  
With efficiency, Grace crossed the room in swift strides. She took the knife from Vitaly's grasp, and turned off the stove. She looked inside the casserole. A variety of vegetables and a steak floated around of what seemed to be tomato juice.  
"I didn't find beetroot inside your fridge, so I made it with a canned tomato soup. "  
"It?"  
"Borsht. My specialty." Vitaly chuckled, avoiding Grace's eyes, grimacing at his injured palm.  
"Let me look at that."  
Grace took his hand on hers, the wound was deep, it needed cleaning and maybe some stitches.  
"I can't keep the nightmares away."  
Grace, taken aback, stared at Vitaly. He looked past her, his blue eyes shimmered away. She pitied him. Grace wondered what he endured that it led him to become who he was.  
"I can't stitch your hand here. I need to take you to the hospital."  
"Take me where my brother lives. He's in a— a business trip. But Ava will be there, she's having a baby you know?"  
"What? You aren't making any sense. Ugh. Fine, better than having you back on rehab, huh? Not a bad idea, though. Here, let me clean it."  
Grace took his arm, and dragged him back towards the small loveseat. She instructed him to wait rushing towards her bathroom to retrieve her aid kit. Grace sat before him, having all she needed, she examined the wound.  
Vitaly stared at the nape of Grace's head. He sensed the way she worked around the gash, he felt no pain. At least not from the cut.  
He knew that Grace had many questions, the way her grey eyes glistened and narrowed whenever he said something. He hated the pity behind them, her pity was like a knife plunging on his stomach.  
"Where did you learn to cook anyway?"  
Her voice snapped him back to reality.  
Vitaly smirked, closing his eyes he rested his head back.  
"My family and I, we are from Ukraine. We emigrated when things were getting tough. My father put up a restaurant, and my mother taught me all culinary skills. But 'shh' nobody needs to know this."  
"Right." Grace mumbled appraising Vitaly's wound. She let out a breath. It didn't need stitches.  
"All right Orlov, you'll live. There's no need to go to a hospital."  
He smirked, peaking at her through hooded lids. Nodding, he shut his eyes closed. Grace packed her things, her stomach lurching at the thought of him being broken.  
Grace patted his arm with stiff moves before she pushed herself from the loveseat. She threw the comforter over Vitaly's body. Grace dragged herself to her bedroom.

*.*.*

Grace shifted on her chair, she stared at the window as she tried– unsuccessfully— to shut down the rampant fight in Russian coming behind doors of what probably was the kitchen.  
The Crimean wasn't fancy—which Grace imagined it would be, given Vitaly's brother's lifestyle.  
On the contrary it seemed old and dirty business, half the people inside eating plates of undistinguishable content spoke in fluent Russian. Grace wondered if she was in the middle of mobster meetings.  
The door of the kitchen burst open. Vitaly's father— a small man with aquiline nose—came out first, scowling as his eyes contacted Grace's. As if it was her fault his son was such a wreck.  
"You eaten yet?"  
Grace turned her attention away from the grumpy-looking man, turning her focus on the woman with angry yet kind eyes. Vitaly's mother. Irina.  
"It's fine. Actually–"  
"Actually Grace was telling me on our way here that she was hungry."  
Vitaly sat next to Grace in the table, smirking at Grace.  
"It's settled then." Irina agreed with her tick accent.  
"Who'll attend the costumers?" Anatoly complained.  
Grace looked around amused.  
"You papa." Vitaly laughed.  
Grace smirked, despite her discomfort, she found the entire ordeal hilarious. Flushed, Anatoly jumped off his stool, took his coat and headed to the exit.  
"I'm off to temple!"  
The door slammed behind Anatoly's back  
"Your father is…" Grace muttered.  
Vitaly smirked, but it wasn't the usual humorous one.  
"He isn't happy with the way both of his sons turned out." Vitaly mumbled toying with the salt shaker.  
"What do you mean? Everyone is fucked up somehow, and your brother is a wealthy business man."  
"The thing is–" Vitaly hesitated. He spared Grace a sidelong glance before fumbling with his pack of cigarettes. "Yuri's ambition is blinding him."  
She was eager to ask for details. Grace opened her mouth only to close it again when Irina approached the table with a sad smile, two plates in both hands. Setting them in front of both Vitaly and Grace, the woman stared at his youngest child as he ate. Vitaly seemed unfazed, just as Grace shifted in her chair for the hundredth time.  
About to shove a spoonful in her mouth, Vitaly's hand slammed on the table, causing both women to jump out of their skins. The chatter surrounding the restaurant died, heads turned toward the sound. Jaws stopped their movement as they waited for something to happen. Silence reigned. Diners kept staring at their table. Grace sworn she could hear the silence that fell upon the place. If such thing existed.  
Irina excused herself and ran into the kitchen. Tears streaming down her face.  
The chatter resumed, heads turned but sideway glances kept a watchful eye on them.  
"Shit." Vitaly cursed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it past his eyes. His leg bounced up and down underneath the table.  
"Vitaly," Grace mumbled tentative. He flinched, it hit him she was sitting right next to him, witnessing all. Vitaly turned away from her scrutiny. His eyes filled with remorse.

"I need to get out of here." Vitaly pushed away from the table. He crossed the restaurant in swift strides to the door.

Grace watched the steaming contents of her plate, aware of the pointed looks on her back. She took in a deep breath. Grace's chair whirred as she stood and followed Vitaly out unto the streets.


	6. Chapter 5

**HELLO!**

 **It's been a while since I posted anything, it was a small hiatus of sorts, considering I don't update constantly.**

 **Thank you so much to those of you who've taken the time to read, review, favourite this small piece of fiction. I usually write to amuse myself, so I'm glad my writing get to do the same for others...**

 **Here's the next chapter!**

 _Trigger warning: There's some slight talk of abuse._

* * *

The mug settled on top of the kitchen table with a loud click that the porcelain made against it. The sound made her jump. They had clustered themselves in a companionable silence, the sound being the first thing to slice through it with the sharpness of a knife.

"Where did you go?"

Her voice rasped against silence, her syllables not too pronounced. She scratched her skin absent minded.

Vitaly reacted, his lashes fanned his own blue eyes. Eyes, that in slow motion, grasped for focus. They focused on her, noting Grace was still there.

He cleared his throat, as she shifted on the uncomfortable stool, Vitaly slouch, in a nonchalant façade. His eyes finally left hers, focusing on the black mass inside his cup, Grace sensed his scrutiny's absence.

"Nowhere. Just thinking."

"I'm amazed." Grace laughed humourless. At Vitaly's quizzical look she added, "Men in my family used to do the same. They lived in both worlds at once."

She pat her temple to make a point.

"The mind seems a better choice." he pauses, "Sometimes."

Grace nodded. She looked down at her untouched mug, a mug that once was white, now it had never leaving coffee stains on the borders, the once pristine mug, chaffed and chipped. Ironic.

Her grey eyes levelled with Vitaly's, catching him on the act of appraising her. Something he couldn't help but do often, trying to figure her out. She amazed him, and annoyed him her constant kindness. Why did she even care? She was still there for him, and he knew it wasn't out of pity, he endured enough with Yuri's constant pity, Vitaly could recognise when a person's way of caring was honest.

But she was something else, Grace treated him different. Like a person, and not a complete fucked up person.

After the incident at his family's joint, Grace chased after him, knowing she was meddling in something it wasn't even her business to meddle in the first place, and not to mention, business of a stranger! To whom she seemed drawn to by his mysterious background, and his brooding nature.

Vitaly was out of his mind when she reached him. She found him pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair. He looked everywhere but her. Vitaly wanted to tell her, to speak out of the nightmares that kept him up at night and how much he loathed himself and his brother. Grace stared at him, throughout the inner struggle he had, she remained silent. All of sudden, his anger vanished. Grace thought he was about to have an emotional break down, but his despair transformed into an almost unreadable expression.

"I think we should go back." Grace said, she turned on her heels, she hoped he would follow her, and he did.

They weren't friends, but there was understanding between them that made the walk back less awkward.

He stepped inside the restaurant first. The people looked at the opening door, Grace saw their expressions shifting into fake disinterest, but their heads kept turning slightly towards them as they walked inside, sideways glances followed every step they took.

Irina sat by the table in the back, her face devoid of astray tears, she smiled in kind at the clients, the only thing giving away her feelings were the traces of her frown creasing her forehead. Her attention snapped towards them as they approached the counter.

Vitaly and his mother locked glances, they didn't speak as he approached her, his stride was of man in sudden need of the comfort only a mother could give. Grace followed close behind as an spectator. An outsider.

Somewhat jealous, Grace saw the moment, she was jealous that he had a mother that cared for him, and he took that for granted. Grace contemplated as Mother and son stared at each other, they exchanged unspoken words between them with a single glance. Vitaly cupped his mother's face in his hands, while her mother's poise shattered and she hugged her son with a vicious grip. A grip that wished for him to never leave her care. A hug Vitaly didn't return.

Irina's grip on his son lessened, her eyes travelled back to the dark haired woman, her eyes thanking Grace for what she did. Which felt foreign to her since all she did was bring him back.

"Would you like something to drink?" Irina asked, forcing Grace to stay longer than she planned. Grace forced an indulging smile.

"I should go." Grace said. She rose from her stool, her back stiff from being in the same position for too long, her movements awkward. Vitaly insisted she should stay for another cup, after her mother left them alone to keep an eye on business, since he had ruined her night and part of her day.

"Yeah, I bet you have more things to do. Important things, than taking care of me." Vitaly chuckled.

"It's not that this wasn't fun," Grace said laughing, to which Vitaly laughed too, a boyish grin spreading on his handsome face. "But I have to get back."

"Take care Vitaly Orlov." Grace said. All traces of humour abandoned.

Vitaly's grin faded, a solemn expression replacing it as he turned around the table to approach her. Unnerved, Grace stared at him, not sure of how to react.

He came to a stop in front of her, his eyes trailed her entire face, a spark in his blue eyes loomed as his stare intensified. Grace couldn't seem to move away, frozen by his proximity, her feet seemed to ground her to her spot.

Vitaly was close enough, close enough she could smell him. He smelled like a mixture of cigarette smoke and something resembling to soap rom the shower he took that morning back at her place.

Vitaly inched forward, his face closed on hers, he paused. Vitaly's eyes scanned hers, his eyes fetching for an emotion out of hers, other than confusion and shock. Involuntarily, her mouth parted, which caught Vitaly's attention. A tiny smirk tilted the corner of his mouth upwards, inching forward Vitaly kissed Grace's cheek. He took notice of her squirms under his proximity.

"Thank you" Vitaly said before drawing away from her intoxicating presence.

*.*.*

Grace shifted under Marie scrutiny. She turned the menu down, she took sip from her glass of wine, avoiding her friend's stare.

"So, just to see if I get it." Marie said, her voice hitched with that annoyed tone she held. Her elbows coming up on top of their table. "He followed you? And you let him stay over?"  
"I know it's not the best idea I ever had–"

"That's an understatement."

" _But_ I wasn't about to throw him to the street half drunk and god knows what else." Grace muttered. "It's called being kind. Have you heard of it?"

"He could've been a complete psychopath. You are too naïve."

"Well, it won't happen again." Grace muttered with a grimace.  
"Uh-huh. I don't blame you, I blame your kind nature that sends you off to trouble."  
"My father would agree with you." Grace murmured, pushing away her menu.  
Marie had agreed to meet with her and have lunch. She was her confidant and only friend. New York City wasn't a friendly place.

"Your father. He's hiring more staff to help at the centre, although he's reducing our shifts he's also reducing our payment." Marie shook her head.

Grace shrunk on her seat. She had so many issues, one of them was her father.

She hardly saw him, and when she did, he treated her as another employee under his payroll, instead of family. He never even acknowledged her as his daughter. She used to want to please the stoic, uncaring man that treated her with callousness.

Her mother left when she was a toddler with the selfish bastard of a man who saw her as a burden. As soon as she could walk, he would send her to every daycare, nannies, she grew under everyone's care...but the lack of love. That's something she had longed.

"...talk to him."

"Huh?" Grace looked up startled.

Marie stared, trying to make a point, her mouth pursued as her hand clenched her fork.

"I said, that maybe he would consider not changing our wages if he heard it directly from you. His daughter."

"Not going to happen." Grace snickered. "If he wants me to quit so badly, why doesn't he talks to me?"

Marie rolled her eyes, having heard that argument before, she bent over the table.

"Why do you work for him then? Jesus!"

Grace shrugged, having another sip of wine, she looked away from the scrutiny of her friend.

*.*.*

The contents of the stove burned, Grace stirred the contents with slow movements, her grey eyes focused on its contents, her mind wandering about. The phone rang.

Grace looked up with red rimmed eyes, she looked over her shoulder, losing the interest on the constant sound. She looked back at the stove, her movements continued, the phone stopped ringing-

Grace let out a sigh. Her hair lied nestled in a messy heap around her shoulders. A long loose blouse covered her with the matching pyjama bottoms.

Six months.

She lost her job six months ago.

It wasn't the loss of her job that kept her up at night, or the cocky smirk her father had, when she begged him not to lay off Marie. He knew it killed her to beg. Especially to the man who abused of his own child, verbally at least.

Throughout her childhood she watched him being abusive towards her mother, he would come home at night after working hard to help others, but took to scream his own frustrations and unload his burdens at his own wife. Not only with screams but fists too.

The screams never ceased in that house for eight years, the last four, she watched as his violent behaviour increased with the passing of time.

 _"Mom?" Grace called out as she came through the small blue house's door._

 _School hadn't been the best that day, considering she had no friends and kids mocked each other over the foreign accents of some. They mocked her for being quiet, and her eyes unsettled everyone, her teacher call them unique, she hated them._

 _"Mom?" Grace called out again._

 _She went into the kitchen, it was strange to find it empty, except for the unfinished dinner . Her little upturned nose furrowed at the sight._

 _Her mother would never leave dinner like that._

 _A loud thump upstairs startled her. That's when she noticed._

 _Folded neatly on the living room sofa, a black coat. Daddy's coat._

 _Gulping, Grace made her way upstairs, careful to jump past the creaking floor boards, she already memorised them. She heard the sound again, this time, as she drew near her parents door room, muffled voices accompanied the thump. Biting her lip, Grace cracked the door open._

 _"When I tell you something, you aren't supposed to talk back. Isn't that what a wife duty is? Stay silent?"_

 _Grace froze at the sight._

 _Her mother's ivory skin, was turning into a deep shade of purple, her yes were bulging out of her sockets. Daddy's hands lay wrapped with an iron grip around her mother's neck, she lay motionless on the floor._

 _"MOOOM!"_

The knocking at her front door startled her out of a haze. The knocking turned into a pounding that reverberated in her ears. Grace wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Nobody was supposed to be there, she thought, it was one of those days she destined to be still. Or depressed, as the doctors called it.

Grace turned off the stove, the dish she meant to cook had already burned. She frowned at the doorway, Grace approached, her feet padded towards it, decide to put an end to the constant pounds, Grace opened the door without double checking through the peep-hole.

A loud gasp escaped her lips, her hands went to grip her shirt, self-concious in the messy state she was in, Grace shut the door close in the face she thought she wouldn't see again. Vitaly Orlov's face.


End file.
